Reclaiming Sundays
by Hell's Pixie
Summary: Steve Rogers continues to struggle to find a place in a still unfamiliar world. As he battles against his oppressive loneliness and uncertainty fate places a young woman in his path. Despite her painful past, Lark Donovan is happy with life, she has three amazing children and loves her job as a nurse. After meeting her new neighbor, she is determined to teach him how to smile again


The idea for this story came to me after a post-finals Marvel marathon with friends. I wanted to write something light and fun with a quirky, random main character. This is going to be based more on the Avengers movie than the actual comic books, so, please be kind all you die-hard comic fans. Though this is a Steve/Captain America centered story the other Avengers will be making appearances in later chapters. Also, I am planning on pairing Darcy with Bruce as well as eventually bringing in Bucky later on. Basically, I'm warning you that I will be playing with Marvel characters and putting them where I want them to be.

Reviews and constructive criticism is always welcome, but please remember that I'm writing this purely for enjoyment purposes.

With all that out of the way,

Please enjoy the first installment of Reclaiming Sundays!

~Pixie

* * *

Steve Rogers both deplored and revered Sundays. Barring any world threatening situations, it was the single day that he had demanded from SHIELD, a day of rest. It started like any other, a thirteen mile jog beginning at five in the morning, a shower, coffee; then mass at eight. The afternoons were spent either in the boxing gym or aimlessly wondering the city before returning to his apartment with take-out for dinner, deeming the food safer than his attempts at cooking.

It was the twilight hours that he hated; the preverbal silence that blanketed his apartment. The television or the music system that Stark insisted on installing did little to ease his tension; the spacious apartment feeling confined as the hours progressed. His emotions flaring wildly, too chaotic to contain; uncertainty, anger, resentment, and loneliness were his constant companions as night fell.

After the invasion Steve had figured that his life would return to what it was before the crash; the life of a solider, leading a team against enemies that threatened the safety of the common people. And he did, the Avengers had several successful missions since the defeat of Loki's army. Despite their conflicting personalities, the team worked well together; but once a mission was finished they went their separate ways, only coming together when SHIELD needed them once again. The Avengers were an amazing team but they weren't the Howling Commandos, they weren't a band of brothers; Steve wasn't even sure if they were considered friends.

Sunday evenings, silent and without distractions, made him keenly aware of how truly alone he was in this new world and it made him miss his old life, his old friends, that much more. The night would end with him shoving his living room furniture to the sides and working out until his body burned and his muscles shook; it was only then that he was able to collapse onto his bed, physical exhaustion forcing him into a fitful sleep where the ghosts of his past would continue to plague him.

Yes, Sundays were both a bane and a blessing.

The sun had just set on a crisp spring Sunday, and Steve found himself pacing his usual circuit, alongside the living room walls before weaving between his couch and coffee table, only to make another lap. His apartment was completely silent; music and television made him feel even more out of control.

The apartment adjacent to his had long sat empty but new tenants had moved in earlier that week. Muffled music and laughter bled through the wall that the two apartments shared, trickling into his silent living room. The dampened noises caused him to still, his chest tightening until his heartbeat thundered in his ears. Laughter wasn't something he was use to hearing.

The building was small; only fifteen apartments spaced between five floors, and was mainly home to retired folks. The two bedroom floor plans and elderly neighbors discouraged families from moving in, especially those with small children. The other tenants were friendly enough as long as everyone followed the unspoken rule of the building: Quiet was king.

A sudden knock at his door jarred Steve from his thoughts, breaking through the silence like a whip crack. A young woman greeted him with a bright smile once he opened the door, two boys flanking her as a small girl held up a plate of pastries. "Hi," The woman greeted warmly, "We just moved in next door and wanted to bring you over a plate of treats. This is Ronan and Lucan," She stated, dropping her hands to the boys' shoulders before nodding towards the girl leaning heavily against her legs, "And this is Clara."

"I'm Lark Donovan, by the way." She held out her hand which Steve instantly shook. "Steve Rogers. It's a pleasure to meet you." Lark flashed him another smile, "Pleasure is all mine. We just wanted to drop this plate off for you then we'll get out of your hair."

"They're a bribe." Clara said, holding the plate up higher so Steve could see several round, fat cream puffs beneath the colored plastic wrap. A rosy blush instantly stole into Lark's cheeks as her eyes grew wide; the boys snickering. "They're not a bribe," Lark interjected, glancing up at Steve quickly before giving the young girl an intense look.

Clara nodded, "Yeah-huh, you said that you made them so we could bribe the people into not yelling at us if we got too loud. That's what you said, don't you remember?" Lark clapped a hand over the girl's mouth, "Your speaking privileges have been revoked." Ronan tugged at the hem of her worn t-shirt, "Your face is all red, La-la. Are you having a strike?"

"It's not a strike," His brother stated, "It's a yoke. Besides, she'd be twitching if she was having one of those.

"A stroke," Lark said exasperatedly, "It's called a stroke and, no, I'm not having a stroke. A brain aneurism? Probably." Clara glanced between the two boys before stating in a loud whisper, "That means her brains gonna blow up."

Steve fought back a laugh as Lark hung her head in defeat with a small groan. She plucked the paper plate from Clara and thrust it into his hands, "Well, this has been fun. Those are for you. It's been great to meet you." She gave him a friendly smile before shooing the children back towards their apartment, "Really, guys," She stated softly the moment their backs were turned, "He's going to think we're nuts. I said 'act normal'."

"But we did act normal," Lucan protested. Steve leaned against his doorjamb, no longer hiding his smile as he continued to listen. The group had stalled in their doorway, completely oblivious to his presence. "I meant normal people normal not our normal. There's a difference." Lark explained with a sigh before straightening and catching sight of him out of the corner of her eye, causing heat to explode across her face again. She successfully maneuvered the boys into the apartment but Clara was tugging relentlessly at her shirt, blatantly refusing to move until Lark leaned down to talk to her. The small girl peeked quickly at Steve before saying, "He's cute, La-la." Lark let out a stifled groan, running a hand down her face before swinging the child up into her arms, "You lost your speaking privileges, remember?" Clara pouted, "But he is cute."

Lark placed her hand over Clara's mouth again before glancing at him, "Have a nice night, Steve. Enjoy the crazy puffs. Lord, I meant the cream puffs." She offered him another smile before shutting their door.

He finally allowed himself to laugh once he was in his apartment, snagging a pastry before dropping on the couch. Steve reached for the television remote but paused as laughter exploded next door bubbling into his apartment once again.

He leaned back against the rough cushions, pondering the reception the other tenants were going to give the young family. He already knew that the Silvertons, the elderly couple that occupied the apartment across the hall, were going to hate the fact there were now children in the building. Bert Silverton had made no qualms about how he had felt when Steve had first introduced himself after moving in. The growly man had actually told him that he would make Steve's life miserable if he disturbed the peace of the building. He didn't want to imagine the welcome that Lark and her children got.

Steve shook his head, standing to retrieve another cream puff and a glass of milk. As he settled down to watch the Discovery channel he decided he was going to do whatever was needed to make the family feel welcome.

It was after ten when Steve shut off the television and quickly washed his glass, returning it to the cabinet when a soft knock came from his door again. Lark held out a bottle of Sam Adams the moment the door opened, "I swear that we're normal."

He laughed taking the offered bottle and opening it. She smiled up at him before taking a sip from her own bottle. He took a moment to study her as he took a drink. Lark was young, maybe only a few years younger than him; or at least, as he appeared. She was a good six inches shorter than he was and appeared to be along the same build as Natasha. Her hair was shiny black, the waves falling along her jaw while her bangs were swept to the left instead of being cut straight across her forehead as had been the style in nineteen forty. A glittering, mischievous light seemed to constantly shine from her eyes, which were an intense shade of icy blue.

He didn't realize that he was staring until a weighty silence formed between them, uncomfortable and thick. "So," Lark finally said after a few more tense moments. "Oh, jeez, sorry," Steve stammered out, "I'm, uh, I'm not very good at this. Would you like to come in?"

"That's all right," She said with a laugh as he blushed. She motioned towards her open door, "The kids are in bed. I just figured I had to do some damage control before you decided we were completely nuts. Besides, I didn't want the entire floor to hate us." Steve grimaced, "I take it the Silvertons were less than welcoming?"

She laughed again, taking a drink before answering, "You mean before or after he slammed the door in our face?"

"I'm sorry," Steve offered, shooting a dark glance at the offending door down the hallway. Lark shrugged, "I get it. I knew we were going to have some kind of friction when we moved into this building but location totally makes up for it. It's only twenty minutes away from the kids' school instead of the hour that we were originally driving. I'm willing to put up with a few bristly neighbors for a shorter commute to work."

He nodded before asking, "Where do you work at?" Lark leaned against the wall, propping the toe of her shoe on the chipped molding, "Grace Hospital. I'm a nurse in the Pediatric ICU mainly but I'm the first to get shipped to the E.R. if they need an extra set of hands."

"Aren't you too you to be a nurse?" Steve questioned before he could catch himself, "What I meant was. . . I didn't mean to make it seem like I don't believe you, it's just most nurses that I've seen were older. But, then again, you do have three kids; not that there's anything wrong with that. . ." He trailed off, figuring that it was best if he just stopped talking, blush crawling up his face. Ninety-five years old and he was still constantly putting his foot in his mouth when it came to women.

Lark burst into giggles as he awkwardly shifted. She patted his arm reassuringly, "Relax, Steve, it's not that big of a deal. I get it all the time." He offered her a small, apologetic smile which made her laugh again. "You don't talk to women much, do you?" She teased before draining the last few sips of her beer. "That obvious?" Steve asked.

"Only a little," She replied, her eyes glittering with laughter. "To answer your awkwardly unasked question, I graduated high school at fourteen with twelve college credits. At eighteen I finished med school, decided a year into my residency to become a nurse instead of a doctor."

"Wow," He offered earnestly but she shrugged off his praise. "Eidetic memory," Lark offered, tapping her temple, "I probably could have graduated younger but I had a really short attention span as a kid. How about you, what do you do for a living?"

"I work for SHIELD." Steve offered, knowing that most people had no idea what that entailed; they usually assumed he was yet another desk jockey working for the government. "Secret agent man," Lark sang as she made a gun with her fingers. "It's not as glamorous as you think." He said with a smile.

"Oh, come on, I bet you know all kinds of fun secrets." She said before a yawn escaped which she quickly tried to hide, "I promise that was a 'get your butt to bed' yawn, not a 'you're boring me' yawn."

He glanced at the utilitarian watch he wore, surprised at how late it had gotten, "I had better get to be as well. SHIELD would send out a search party if I showed up late." Lark cocked her head, her bang falling into her eyes, "That important?"

"That punctual." Steve corrected. He offered her his hand again, which she took with a teasing smile. "Thank you for the conversation and the beer. And the cream puffs, those were amazing." Lark just laughed, moving back towards her apartment, "I know, that's why I bribe people with them. Just wait until you get a hold of some of my cookies, I'll really own your soul then."


End file.
